Pay Up!
by Artemis Leaena
Summary: 2/S - When Bella loses a bet against Alice, she has no choice but to pay the piper ... er ... pixie. But will the price of losing - Edward - be too much of a punishment for Bella? Or is he just the prize she's been waiting for? AH, OOC B/EPOV, M for language
1. His Dance

**Disclaimer**: _The Twilight Saga_ & all associated characters are the copyrighted creation & property of Stephenie Meyer. Stephenie owns the toy box & all the toys in it…I just take 'em out & play with 'em occasionally! Any other publicly recognized characters, brands, quotes or "catch phrases" are the sole trademarked &/or copyrighted property of their respective creators. No copyright or trademark infringement is purposely intended with this story.

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><p>Many, and profuse, thanks to Lindsey21412 &amp; the incomparable Melmcc101180 for beta'ing this piece! =D

**Playlist:**

Kaci Battaglia – Crazy Possessive [Explicit Version] (featured)  
>Kings of Leon – Charmer<br>House of Heroes – Lose Control

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><p><strong>Pay Up!<strong>

**BPOV**

I was going to fucking kill Alice! It wasn't that we were in a loud-ass dance club. It wasn't even _why _we were in this little shit-hole that we wouldn't otherwise be caught dead in. No, I was going to kill her because she knew exactly which buttons to push, strings to pull, and atomic fucking bombs to drop to get to me and was using that knowledge to her advantage tonight.

Placing harmless little bets on the mundane aspects of our lives had been a habit for Alice and me since we were in middle school. We had continued the juvenile habit through college, and now that we were neighbors and responsible adults—in theory at least…tonight was really testing that theory—we couldn't help but keep up the tradition. With one exception: we may still place asinine wagers, but as we had grown up, the stakes had steadily gotten higher.

When we were thirteen, the loser would have to do something like wear their bra outside their clothes for an hour or announce to the lunch table that they were in desperate need of a tampon. When we were eighteen, the loser would have to run butt naked through the dorm while singing "I'm a Little Teapot" or some shit like that. Whatever would cause the most embarrassment was always the driving force behind the terms of the bets.

It didn't take Alice long, however, to realize that I really had little to no shame! So while I would make her go up to random strangers and say, "Mmmhmmm, _Dick_! I could really use a dick in my mouth! How about you?" that devious little shit would attack me psychologically. She knew that I despise normalcy, like mini-vans and cardigans. She knew that unless I consider you to be family, I don't give two shits about helping you and have never committed a random act of kindness just for the sake of being nice. And she knew that I demand control of my life…at all times…and why!

This knowledge of me is why some of the more torturous debts she had demanded included making me volunteer at an old fogey's home helping geezers play Bingo. It took me a week to get the smell of camphor and "old" off of me! She also made me go to one of our usual clubs dressed in some fucking contraption called a pencil skirt and a hideous sweater combo she called a "twin set"...and I wasn't allowed to show off a single tattoo. The worst though, the one that almost sent me to therapy, she made me allow her to drive to Forks and back on one of our infrequent visits home. And not just drive, but drive _my _car! I'm telling you, the bitch is evil!

All of that brings us to tonight and wannabe club that only drunken sorority whores and fucked-up frat ass-hats frequented. I was sitting here, bored out of my skull because I'd lost our most recent bet, and, as per usual, Alice had decided it would be better to strip me of control than to strip me of clothes...I did the latter enough on my own. Tonight, I had to do whatever she said, whenever she said it, without question.

Fuck. My. Life.

She was in the process of explaining to me what my latest torture would entail—with a little too much enthusiasm, if you asked me. _Why was I friends with her again?_

_Smack_

"What the _fuck_?" I screeched as pain exploded across my shoulder, and I was brought out of my reverie.

"Pay attention, Swan!"

I glared at the pixie-like demon in front of me. "Fine! What the fuck do I have to do?"

"Tonight, you are going to be a Good Samaritan." I swear Satan himself was cowering in a corner somewhere, whimpering pitifully like a little whipped bitch in fear of the sadistic grin Alice was bestowing on me. I don't remember Tinker Bell being such a vindictive ass munch. "You are going to help a stranger in need."

"And just how the fuck am I gonna do that?" More to the point, why the fuck would I _want _to?

"Why, I'm ever so glad you asked." Alice chirped. She fucking _chirped! _She truly did look glad I had asked. Alice was, in fact, barely keeping her ass on the bar stool because she was bouncing so fucking much, and I could tell from the wide grin she flashed me that she needed to lay off the fucking Crest White Strips. "You see that guy over there?" She pointed off to a guy standing on the fringes of the dance floor with a strawberry blonde hovering around him.

"You mean the Poindexter?"

She huffed in exasperation but nodded. "And you see the walking STD practically raping him?" There was an amused, yet definitely malicious, chuckle to her voice.

I narrowed my eyes and shot a death glare at Alice. "I'm failing to see where you're going with this one, Smurfette!" Alice hated it when I picked on her height. Whatever! Bitch was annoying me.

"Where I'm _going_, Bitch-a-rella,"—ooooh, pixie was gonna show her claws tonight too—"is I've been watching him all night, and—"

"Wait, why the fuck have you been watching him?"

She continued as if I hadn't spoken. "—and that skank hasn't been more than two feet away from him for the last hour. I also just _happened_ to walk past them a time or two…or five, whatever—" I just rolled my eyes at her and motioned for her to continue, "—and he has rejected her like _a bajillion_ times, but she hasn't taken the hint. I even heard him tell her that he's got a girlfriend, and there she still is!"

"And you want me to do…what?" Oh, I knew what she was thinking in that spiky little head of hers, and I didn't like it. She just glared right back at me and then jerked her head in his direction while raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"_Come on_, Alice! He's a total spazz." I looked at the guy she had pointed to again. Sure, he was tall, with wide shoulders, narrow hips, and some awesome fucking hair, but he looked like a boys school reject. "He's fucking wearing Dockers, Ali…_Dockers_! And a sweater vest. Did you see the fucking sweater vest?" Surely the fashionista of fashionistas wouldn't make me help someone who wore Dockers and sweater vests…and to a dance club no less! "It's _plaid_!" I cried.

"I'm not telling you to _fuck_ him, Swan, _damn_! Just go save him from the Syphilis Queen." I rolled my eyes at her again, which just seemed to harden her resolve and ignite her temper all the more as she slammed her tiny little palm down on our table and snapped at me. "_Hey_! Glare, bitch, piss, whine, and moan all you want, but _you_ agreed to the terms of the bet and you _lost_…so suck it up, buttercup, get up off your slut ass, and go do your bitch-thang!"

"I hate you. You realize this, right?" I loved her...she knew it, I knew it...everyone in a five fucking block radius knew it.

"Whatever, just _pay up_, whore!" And with that, she hopped off her stool, blew me a kiss, and turned on her well-shod heel shaking her ass at me as she walked away.

_Fuck_! Fine! I'll pay my debt to the Queen of Evil Pixies and go rescue Chandler. But I'll be damned if I'll ever bet Alice again!

**EPOV**

I was ready to leave. I'd been ready to leave since Emmett, Jasper, and I had entered this craptastic hole-in-the wall about three hours ago. I was ready to run for the door after I ran into several of my students and had to endure their awkward stares around two hours ago. And I had _really_ been ready to crawl out the bathroom window—who needs dignity, anyway—ever since my ex-girlfriend, Tanya, had started orbiting around me like a freaking planet about an hour ago.

To make matters worse, I had no clue where Em and Jazz had disappeared to. They dragged me here, stuck a drink in my hand, and then they seemed to fall off the face of the earth. I thought I saw them approaching me, but then they turned and disappeared again…right about the time Tanya found me. Lucky me!

I turned and scanned the bar behind me, finally locating Jazz. He was leaning against the shiny metal railing, chatting up some dark, spiky-haired girl who looked way younger than him and possibly barely old enough to be in a place like this. Come to think of it, I could have sworn I saw him talking to that same woman earlier in the evening when we'd first arrived. Well, at least he's moving on! Not that there was ever any question of _that_ happening.

It was why we were here tonight. Jasper had received the paperwork today from his lawyer finalizing his divorce from the biggest _mistake_ of his life and simultaneously granting him full custody of the greatest _joy_ in his life. It was definitely something to celebrate, and if anyone deserved to, it was my brother-in-law. Well, actually, he was my brother's brother-in-law as Emmett was married to Jasper's sister Rosalie, but we were all so close he was my family too. Which is why I couldn't refuse him when he called, and why I was standing here, being mauled.

"Come on, Eddie. I know you remember how good we were together."

I shuddered in disgust at the supposedly seductive whisper in my ear and felt ill at the sight of the perfectly manicured claw rubbing my chest. I turned my attention back to the current bane of my existence and fixed her with a stern look. "What I _remember_, Tanya, is that you enjoyed being 'good together' with a lot of people. And don't call me Eddie! Now, I've told you, I have a girlfriend. I'm sorry if you can't accept that."

I knew it was a lie, but I was hoping she didn't. I finally seemed to be getting through to her, though, if the angry furrow of her brow as she stepped back from me was any indication. "Really? _You_ have a new girlfriend?" Was that skepticism I heard?

"Yes!" _Please_ let me be convincing so she'll go away!

"Okay! So what's her name? Where is she?" She started looking around us as if she expected someone to magically appear.

Oh no! Crap! She wants a name and details. Think, Cullen. Just give her a name. Susan. Debbie. Katie. _Any_ name, just give her a stupid name and worry about the rest later. I opened my mouth to do just that when I felt tiny hands wrap around my waist from behind, and the most angelic voice I had ever heard drift over my shoulder.

"Her name's Bella, and she's right here." The mystery angel leaned up, which effectively pressed the front of her body fully against my back, and whispered in my ear so only I would hear. "Just go with it, stud." She then kissed me under my ear, shooting bolts of lightning down my spine and outward to every nerve in my body, and said louder, "Hey, baby, sorry I'm late. Dance with me?"

I saw the shocked hatred on Tanya's face and heard her sharp intake of breath, but all I could concentrate on was the fire that had suddenly erupted in my stomach as the angel's hands softly stroked my abdomen. I took her delicate little hands in mine, weaving our fingers together, turned my head to look at my rescuer, and was slammed with another jolt of electricity at the vision which greeted me.

Her skin was the purest porcelain I had ever seen, her lips stained an alluring pinkish-rose, and her eyes were the deepest pools of chocolate that made me wish I could swim—or happily drown a thousand deaths—in them. She was breath taking. Gorgeous. Perfection personified. Bella…beautiful…it suited her. And she was smiling at me, waiting for my response.

I was too poleaxed to verbally respond, so instead I leaned down to place a simple and chaste kiss upon those lips that I knew would haunt me till my dying day. If I thought the spark I'd felt when she'd kissed my neck was strong, it was nothing compared to the shock to my system from her lips that left every nerve in my body screaming…screaming for more!

The grin she bestowed upon me when I pulled back from her petal soft lips was blinding, and I couldn't help but returning it. She unwrapped both her arms from my waist and one of her hands from one of mine, keeping the other tightly entwined with my own as she turned and started pulling me out onto the dance floor.

I was ready to drop down and worship at her feet from the sight before me now as she weaved us through the throng of gyrating bodies, and I got a good look at her body. I started at her slim ankles above her stiletto heels, traveled up her shapely legs that went on forever, to her tight derriere clad in a black leather mini-skirt which barely covered that glorious posterior, but stopped at her bare back. More to the point, I stopped at the giant tattoo that covered half her back. It appeared to wrap around to her front which was covered in a scrap of cloth held in place by tiny straps that crisscrossed her back.

My eyes followed the thin straps back and forth across her back, and I was drawn again to her tattoo. It looked like a giant paw attached to an arm reaching to the middle of her back. No, not a paw. It was a claw! A sharp, bloody, scaly claw drawn to look as if its nails had punctured and torn her deliciously creamy back in its attempt to grasp her. A glance down at the waist of her low riding skirt showed another arm, or leg, or whatever, peeking out from beneath her waistband with another bloodied claw gouging her tender flesh just above her tailbone. The legs extended over to a large body that ran down the entire length of her side from her arm pit and disappeared into that scrap of a skirt and wisp of a top. What I wouldn't give to see the rest of the creature.

She stopped us in the middle of crowd and turned back to me, pressing her chest to my chest and the rest of her body to mine before slipping her hands around me again. She slid her hands down the small of my back, over my rear, and into my back pockets before she started moving with me to the music. As we began to get in a rhythm, I was hit with the irony of the particular song playing which was too perfect for our charade. Did this girl plan this?

_I think I'm crazy  
>I think I'm going out of my mind<br>You call me crazy  
>I thought I saw you touching my guy<br>Are you crazy?  
>Maybe I should take you outside<br>And show you crazy  
>Ooh, I got your crazy<em>

I had my hands resting on her hips, reveling in the feel of her swaying back and forth before me. Heaven. I closed my eyes and let the heavy beat of the music move through me, then I felt her hands slide back around my waist to the front and begin gliding over my abdomen again, up my chest, around my shoulders, down my arms, settling themselves within my own large hands.

_A little hazy  
>Maybe I'm just losing my mind<br>I think you're shady  
>I know that you've been calling my guy<br>Are you crazy?  
>Now I'm gonna take you outside<br>And show you crazy  
>Ooh, I got your crazy<em>

She stepped back from me and I felt bereft of her warmth, but she slowly turned with my hands still within her own and crossed her arms which effectively left me hugging her from behind as her back—and round backside—pressed along my entire front length. She brought my hands back to her hip bones and began swaying in little circles to the music again.

_Call my man again and I'm a_ _fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up<br>And then you call me your best friend  
>And then you call me your best friend<em>

With every sway and gyration of her magnificent hips, my pants became tighter and tighter. Was it possible to die of arousal? Just as that thought occurred to me, Bella leaned her head back onto my shoulder, and I was certain I heard her say, "Don't be afraid to touch me!" before. She then started undulating her body against mine in a serpentine motion that caused her rump to move away from me only to return and slide over the front of my hyper-excited body over and over again. I had never wanted to be uncivilized so much in my entire life as I did at that moment.

_Call me crazy  
>Every time that I turn around<br>You're on my baby  
>Ooh, but I'm his lady<br>Am I possessive?  
>Just because I'm claiming what's mine<br>You're crossing the line_

_Why are you constantly calling him up_  
><em>To pick you up, let me know now<em>  
><em>How can you call me your best friend<em>  
><em>Then turn around and secretly text him<em>  
><em>You call me crazy, ooh I got your crazy<em>

I was panting, sweating, dying, going up in pleasurable flames and loving every second of it. Don't be afraid to touch her? I was afraid if I _didn't_ touch her I would explode. I let my hands start to wander over her abdomen which was exposed by the handkerchief she called a top. Her skin was so smooth, so soft; I wanted to melt into it. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I brought my lips down and began leaving heavy, open-mouthed kisses along her luscious neck and irresistible shoulder.

_Call my man again and I'm a_ _fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up<br>And then you call me your best friend  
>And then you call me your best friend<em>

I allowed my lips to travel up the column of her neck till I reached her ear. Once there, I ran my tongue along the outer rim from top to bottom, and when I reached her supple lobe, I sucked it gently between my lips. A breathy moan escaped her lips and spurred me on to nibble on the delicious flesh in my mouth. Her hands found mine, and I was confused when I felt her pull my fingers from her stomach, but confusion was soon left in the dust of desire as she moved my hands up to cup the handfuls that were her magnificent breasts. Her hands left mine to massage and knead her glorious mounds while her hands continued trailing up her chest, up over her neck, up behind her head to slide into my hair where her fingers began fisting and tugging and holding me closer and closer to her. As if I had any plans to leave her any time soon! She was the sweetest of fruits, and I was a starving man!

_They call me crazy, they say I'm crazy  
>I know you are but what am I?<br>I know you are but what am I?  
>They call me crazy, I think I'm crazy<br>I know you are but what am I?  
>Ooh, I got your crazy<em>

I don't know what came over me, but suddenly I couldn't touch her, taste her, surround her, or be surrounded by her enough. I reluctantly let go of her breast with one hand to bring it back and move the cascade of silky dark hair which hung loosely down her back so that I could move over and attach my lips to the other side of her throat. Once I was once again tasting heaven on my tongue, I brought my hand back to her front, but instead of returning it to her perky, full breast, I placed it flat against her stomach and pulled her tighter against me. I began moving my hips in a circular motion, grinding my aching member into her backside as my lips continued to devour the skin of her shoulder and my other hand memorized her breast…from the weight of it to the texture of the tight nub that was her erect nipple. This woman was quickly unraveling my senses and making me forget almost thirty years of upbringing that taught me this was not how a gentleman treats a lady.

_Call my man again and I'm a_ _fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, ooh I got your crazy<em>

I let both of my hands drag down her frame until they reached the waist of her skirt, and in a move that was pure lust, I grabbed her hips tightly, digging my fingers into her, and slammed her soft body into my hard length. I relished the groan and then throaty purr which emanated from her as I continued to rub myself against her. I could feel the tension within me building, desperate for a warm, wet release. I brought my hands together on top of her skirt on her lower abdomen just above where her skirt hid her sex, and I began rubbing deep circles into her. Her breathing grew heavy and labored, and she pushed herself back against me in time with my own hips, her rhythm complimenting mine, increasing the coiled tension. She suddenly turned in my arms and dropped into a squat before me leaving my hands dangling at my sides as her hands came to rest on my hips.

_Call my man again and I'm a_ _fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up<br>And then you call me your best friend  
>And then you call me your best friend<br>I hope I'm crazy_

She turned those soul-sucking eyes up to me, and of their own volition, one of my hands moved to grip one of her hands on my hip while the other moved to thread through the thick waves of her hair as I looked down upon her. No sooner had my hand found purchase in her hair then she began slowly slithering up my body. I hissed in euphoric pain and groaned in hellish pleasure as she brushed one of her cheeks, and nuzzled me with the other cheek, over the now painfully tight front of my trousers and...did she just _kiss _my zipper? She continued up my stomach and chest, inhaling my scent as she went, until she reached my neck. She then leaned up and kissed the underside of my jaw before she whispered, "She's gone, and you are _most_ welcome, Professor."

Bella stepped back from me with a satisfied smirk gracing her delectable lips as if she realized my state of enthrallment and that I hadn't even realized the music had changed to something softer and slower. Before I could register what was happening, she turned and started walking away from me. Fortunately, I recovered my power of speech before she got too far away from me. "It's Edward!" I lamely squeaked.

She didn't even stop to look back, just tossed a dismissive little wave over her shoulder. "Whatever, Sparky!" And with that, my angel disappeared into the crowd.

"Edward, my man! You better put that bad boy away before you put someone's fucking eye out with it!" My brother's booming voice and his massive hand slamming down on my shoulder jarred me out of my stupefaction.

"I've got to find her, Em. I've got to make her mine."

"Who?" Confusion clearly laced his tone, and his face as he looked around.

"Bella." I let her name linger on my lips like a caress.

"You met a girl? _Here_?"

"No. I met a tattooed goddess, Em. An angel sent to Earth, and I've got to find her."

Emmett just laughed and started walking away. "You've got a better chance of getting me to dance in drag in front of your class than you do of finding that girl again!"

"You know what, Em? I'll take those odds."

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><p><strong>AN:**

What's the most embarassing thing you've ever had to do as a challenge/bet loss? Was it worth it? Tell me what you think of my little mental rambling here by clicking the little link & leaving me some love (aka REVIEW!) =)

HEY...this story is now up at Twilighted! If you like to leave double love (I'm always up for a round 2 hehehehehehehe) you can find it there under Artemis Leaena! Also, be sure to follow me on twitter (a)artemisleaena for spoilers, teasers, update announcements, and general psychotic babbling! LOL


	2. Her Dance

**A/N:**

My contribution to the SU4K Compilation.

Thank you to the wonderful LAHollet for beta'ing this piece. =)

Featured lyrics are for the explicit version of "Crazy Possessive" by Kaci Battaglia & are courtesy of A-ZLyrics Universe.

**Dedication: **This piece is submitted in memory of my best friend from high school, Amy, who lost her 11 year battle with cancer in December 1995 … she had just turned 20 the month before. I love you, Wonder Woman. ~SheRa

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><p><strong>Pay Up!: Her Dance<strong>

**BPOV**

I was going to fucking kill Alice! It wasn't that we were in a loud-ass dance club. It wasn't even _why _we were in this little shithole that we wouldn't otherwise be caught dead in. No, I was going to kill her because she knew exactly which buttons to push, strings to pull, and atomic fucking bombs to drop to get to me and was using that knowledge to her advantage tonight.

It hadn't taken Alice long to realize – when it came to paying out on lost bets – that I really had little to no shame. While I would usually make her do something psychotically goofy such as going up to random strangers and saying things like "Mmmhmmm … _Dick_. I could really use a dick in my mouth right about now. How about you?" that devious little shit attacked me psychologically. She knew that I despised "middle America normalcy" like minivans, cardigans, and white-picket-fucking-fences. She knew that unless I considered someone to be family, I didn't give two shits about helping them, and I had never committed a random act of kindness just for the sake of being nice. And she knew that I demanded control in my life – of all things, at all times – and why.

This knowledge of me is why some of the more torturous debts she'd demanded included making me volunteer at an old fogey's home helping geezers play bingo. It took me a week to get the smell of camphor and "old" off of me. She also made me go to one of our usual clubs dressed in some fucking contraption called a pencil skirt and a hideous sweater combo she called a "twin set" … and I wasn't allowed to show off a single tattoo. The worst though, the one that almost sent me to therapy, was when she made me allow her to drive us to Forks and back on one of our infrequent visits home. And not just drive, but drive _my _car! I'm telling you, the bitch was diabolically evil.

Enter tonight's fucking fiasco stage left. We had moved from the bar to a little table not too far removed from where she and her little pretty boy had been, and yet again, Alice had decided it would be better to strip me of control rather than to strip me of clothes; I did the latter enough on my own without her help.

I still shivered at the ferocity – or was that "Petrón"? – in her eyes when she'd uttered those two words that had sent me reeling and had the lava-hot flames of anger once again clawing at my chest: "_Your control_!" Tonight, I had to do whatever she said, whenever she said it, without question. Fuck … my … life.

She was in the process of explaining to me what this latest bout of torture would entail – with a little too fucking much enthusiasm, if you asked me. Why was I friends with her again? Right; because I literally owed her my fucking life. But was that really enough anymore?

_Smack!_

"What the _fuck_?" I screeched as pain exploded across my shoulder, and I was brought out of my brooding reverie.

"Pay attention, Swan!"

I glared at the pixie-like demon in front of me. "Fine! What the fuck do I have to do?"

"Tonight, you are going to play the role of the 'Good Samaritan'." I swear Satan himself was cowering in a corner somewhere, whimpering pitifully – like a little whipped bitch – in fear of the sadistic grin Alice was bestowing on me. I didn't remember Tinker Bell being such a vindictive ass-munch. Wasn't she a pixie, or a fairy, or some other short, annoying shit? "You are going to help a stranger in need."

"And just how the fuck am I gonna do that?" More to the point, why the fuck would I _want _to?

"Why, I'm _ever_ so glad you asked," Alice chirped. She fucking _chirped_ andtruly did look glad I had asked. She was, in fact, barely keeping her ass on the bar stool because she was bouncing so fucking much, and I could tell from the wide grin she flashed me that she needed to lay off the fucking Crest White Strips. "You see that guy over there?" She pointed to a guy standing off on the fringes of the dance floor with a strawberry blond hovering around him.

"You mean the Poindexter?"

She huffed in exasperation but nodded. "And you see the walking STD practically raping him?" There was an amused, yet definitely malicious, chuckle to her voice.

I narrowed my eyes and shot a death glare at Alice. "I'm failing to see where you're going with this one, Smurfette." Alice hated it when I picked on her height. Whatever. Bitch was annoying me.

"Where I'm _going_, Bitch-a-rella …" – Ooooh, pixie was showing her claws tonight, too – "… is I've been watching him all night, and …"

"Wait. Why the fuck have you been watching him?" And what did she mean by "_all night_"? Just how the hell long had Alice been here?

My interruption went unacknowledged. "… and that skank hasn't been more than two feet away from him for the last hour. I also just _happened_ to walk past them a time or two … or five, whatever …" I just rolled my eyes at her and motioned for her to continue. "And he's rejected her like _a bajillion_ times, but she hasn't taken the hint. I even heard him tell her that he's got a girlfriend! Yet there she is, still buzzing around him like a fly at a shit pile."

"And you want me to do … what? Spay the Golden Retriever?" I had my suspicions as to what she was thinking in that spiky little head of hers, and I didn't like it. She just glared right back at me and then jerked her head in his direction while raising and waggling her eyebrows at me suggestively, confirming my theory. Oh, _hell_ to the fucking _no_!

"_Come on_, Alice! He's a total spaz." I looked at the guy she had pointed to again. Sure, he was tall, with wide shoulders, narrow hips, and some awesome fucking hair, but he looked like a boys' school reject. "He's wearing fucking Dockers, Ali … _Dockers_! And a sweater-vest. Did you _see_ the fucking sweater-vest?" Surely the fashionista of fashionistas wouldn't make me help someone who wore twenty-dollar khakis and sweater-vests … and to a dance club, no less. "It's _argyle_." I cried.

"I'm not telling you to fuck him, Swan. _D__amn_! Just go save him from the Syphilis Queen." I rolled my eyes at her again, which just seemed to harden her resolve and ignite her temper all the more. She slammed her tiny little palm down on our table and snapped at me, "_Hey_! Glare, bitch, piss, whine, and moan all you want, but _you_ agreed to the terms of the bet, and you _lost_; so suck it up, buttercup. Now get up off your slut ass and go do your bitch-thang!"

"I hate you. You realize that, right?" I loved her. She knew it. I knew it. _Hell_, everyone in a five-fucking-block radius knew it.

"Whatever, just _pay up_, whore." And with that, she hopped off her stool, blew me a kiss, and turned on her well-shod heel, shaking her ass at me as she walked away.

_Fuck_! Fine. I'd pay my debt to the Queen of Evil Pixies and go rescue Chandler. But I'd be damned if I'd ever bet against Alice again!

As I made my way across the room, taking care to circle around and come up behind him so that the Barbie wouldn't see my approach, I had to wonder why Alice had chosen this particular challenge loss. It didn't seem to fit her _modus operandi_. The Mission: to rescue – or steal, semantics at this point – some guy from a skeezy bar-fly … it was too easy. It also seemed like something I'd done a thousand times before. Of course, in those instances, I wasn't doing it to be nice. I was doing it because I wanted to fuck the guy in question. This just felt wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on _why_.

I passed the DJ booth and saw Alice leaning in and flashing her tits – alright, so she was just leaning provocatively and giving a little peep show … whatever – at the stoner manning the music. Bitch better be putting her "B and a half" cup to good use to get me something decent to work with here. I doubted I could get lucky enough to get a little Buck Cherry or Nine Inch Nails in this fucking hellhole, so I'd need all the help I could get. I finally reached my target and was close enough to overhear their interaction. The albatross on stilts was wailing like a banshee.

"Really? _You_ have a new girlfriend?"

"_Yes_!" he vehemently asserted. I didn't know Opie from dick, but even _I_ could tell he was lying through his teeth. Not even the velvety richness of his voice could mask his colossal fib. There was no _way_ Captain Silicone was gonna buy that load of shit.

"Okay. So what's her name? Where is she?" She started looking around as if she expected someone to magically appear. See? What'd I say? I sighed deeply, squared my shoulders, and stepped up behind him … it was _showtime_.

"Her name's Bella, and she's right here." I crooned as I wrapped my hands around his waist and leaned into him, pressing the front of my body tightly against his back. I felt a spark of something – static electricity from his tacky vest, perhaps? – travel over every inch of my flesh. What the _hell _was _that_? I mentally shook it off and leaned up farther to whisper in his ear so only he would hear me, "Just go with it, stud. Okay?" I kissed him under his ear – damn, he smelled good – and said louder, for her benefit, "Hey baby, I'm sorry I'm late." Then more seductively, "Dance with me?"

Miss Free Clinic Reject was having an apoplectic fit. Hmm … in addition to being easy, this was going to be fun. I started alternating between teasing at the buttons of his sweater that were just above the waist of his pants and running my hands over his abdomen. Holy _shit_! I could feel, despite the two layers of fabric, that this man was toned. His stomach was flat, hard, and currently quivering under my fingers. I grinned as I wondered if I could play with him forever, but he didn't give me the chance to tease him any more as he laced our fingers together, turned to look down at me, and caught my smile … and my breath.

_Fuck_! They weren't making nerds like they used to, because this man was … oh … my … _wow_. His face was angular, the line of his jaw very sharp and well-defined. His nose was straight, and it led my eyes down to his full lips. His eyebrows were thick and slanted over his eyes. Eyes that were brilliant, shimmering emeralds that left my lungs empty, my brain numb, and my panties wet. Or at least they would have been … had I been wearing any. And as if I weren't already having enough difficulty breathing, thinking, or functioning in general, he leaned down and brushed those smooth lips of his against my own. My heart stopped beating, my brain went fuzzy, and I was sure I forgot my own name. Either way, I stood there smiling like a moron as he pulled back.

He was grinning back at me, just as gamely, and I couldn't for the life of me remember what it was I was supposed to be doing. Oh right. I was supposed to be rescuing him … dancing with him. I unwrapped my arms from around his waist and freed one of my hands, keeping the other tightly entwined with his, then turned and led him out to the dance floor.

I maneuvered us through the sea of sweaty bodies until we were somewhere near the middle of the throng then I spun back to face him and stepped as close as I could. I pressed the entire length of my body to his and trailed my hands down and around until they fit into his back pockets. I wanted to laugh as I heard the song that started to play – Alice was a funny little shit, but it was better than anything by Britney Spears – but held the sound in and instead started moving my body against his.

He got the hint and started moving with me until we found an almost synchronized rhythm. I was more than surprised to realize that this guy could really dance. What the _hell_? Geeks weren't supposed to be good looking. They weren't supposed to have voices that incinerated panties. And they sure as fuck weren't supposed to be good dancers. Was he actually a Slater in Screech clothing? And why the fuck was I thinking of horrible nineties teen-coms at a time like this?

_I think I'm crazy  
>I think I'm going out of my mind<br>You call me crazy  
>I thought I saw you touching my guy<br>Are you crazy?  
>Maybe I should take you outside<br>And show you crazy  
>Ooh, I got your crazy<em>

As much as I was enjoying having my hands on his ass, it was time for a change of position. I was about two seconds away from squeezing those rounded, taut cheeks and flipping him around to sink my teeth into his fabulous globes. Trashy though I knew I could be, even _I _knew that wasn't appropriate behavior. His hands were resting lightly on my hips, but he wasn't moving them, he was only moving his feet and hips. This wasn't going to be a convincing show at all if he didn't start participating a little more. I needed to get him engaged in the dance … but I also wanted to feel more of him. Whatever else this dork was, he was built like a fucking statue of a Greek god.

Going slow enough to savor what was under my fingertips, but not so slow as to seem hesitant, I pulled my hands from his pockets and let them slide around his waist to his front and began gliding my fingers up and over his abdomen. My fingers traveled up his chest – _hello_, pectoral muscles – to his shoulders, down his arms, the muscles of which were not well hidden by the fabric of his cotton dress shirt, and all the way to his large, long-fingered hands, which I took into my own smaller ones again.

_A little hazy  
>Maybe I'm just losing my mind<br>I think you're shady  
>I know that you've been calling my guy<br>Are you crazy?  
>Now I'm gonna take you outside<br>And show you crazy  
>Ooh, I got your crazy<em>

I took a small step back from him, just enough to allow room for me to swivel around, crossing my arms over my waist as I did so. The effect was that he was now hugging me, my back pressed fully to his front. More importantly, my ass was now pressed into his groin. I kept our fingers laced together but uncrossed my arms and brought his hands back to rest on my hips as I kept moving to the music.

Glancing up, I noticed the poster child for bad dye-jobs standing off to the side of the dance floor, glaring at the two of us. She was on the verge of chewing her own face off in contempt. "_Yeah, you like that, bitch? Well, wait till you see what I do next_," I thought as I caught her eye and threw a smug little smirk her way. I swallowed my laugh as the bimbo's face became mottled red … she was _livid_. It was time to get my partner in on the action.

_Call my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up<br>And then you call me your best friend  
>And then you call me your best friend<em>

The more I moved my hips and ass against him, the more I could feel that there was _definitely_ some action already going on in his pants, and I smirked devilishly. I leaned my head back against his shoulder – a move that bowed my back, thus pushing my hips further back into him – and angled my head so he'd be able to hear me over the music. In a breathy whisper I urged, "Don't be afraid to touch me." I wasn't certain he had heard me, but just to drive my point home, I began rolling my entire body in a serpentine motion that caused my back and ass to alternatingly slide over his hardness … _all_ of his hardness.

_Call me crazy  
>Every time that I turn around<br>You're on my baby  
>Ooh, but I'm his lady<br>Am I possessive?  
>Just because I'm claiming what's mine<br>You're crossing the line_

He started breathing more rapidly, heat was rolling off him in waves, and I could sense the tension in his arms where they were still wrapped around me as I continued to undulate against him. I knew I was affecting him, and he was certainly affecting me. Whether because he simply couldn't restrain himself any longer, or he had heard my gentle command, his hands began wandering over my exposed abdomen, sending streaks of fire shooting across my skin wherever his fingers roamed.

_Why are you constantly calling him up_  
><em>To pick you up, let me know now<em>  
><em>How can you call me your best friend<em>  
><em>Then turn around and secretly text him<em>  
><em>You call me crazy, ooh I got your crazy<em>

My own breathing quickened and became shallower as my body responded to his touch. My mind was telling me that this was wrong – _he_ was wrong – that this was _not_ what we wanted or needed. My body, on the other hand, was practically screaming at me how _right _this was and how very much we _did_ want and need this. Whatever "this" was, that is. I was brought out of my brief but vacillating thoughts when he brought his warm lips down onto my shoulder and began trailing the most sensual, open-mouthed kisses from the point of my shoulder over to where it met my neck and back again. It was at that point that all thoughts fled from my mind, and all I could do was _feel_.

_Call my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up<br>And then you call me your best friend  
>And then you call me your best friend<em>

Our bodies were moving together, his hands were learning the texture of my stomach and hips between my high-riding shirt and low-slung skirt, and his lips were forging a path of fire as they travelled up my neck to my ear. I felt a sadness steal over me when he pulled his lips from my flesh, but that quickly melted away into the moan of pleasure I'd been fighting to keep from escaping when I felt his hot tongue trace the outer rim of my ear before his mouth captured my lobe. You would have thought my ear was the most delicious candy on earth the way he was sucking and nibbling on my tender skin, each graze of his teeth sending lightning bolts of desire throughout my entire body. It was my undoing and the death knell of any fight my mind had left.

Not only was I done fighting, I was done going slow. I didn't know who this man was, and I certainly hadn't expected to be caught up in my own game – a game that could have ended long before now, as I had noticed that the skank-whore was nowhere to be seen – when I first came over here. But I _needed_him to touch me, learn me … possess me. I felt him stiffen slightly behind me, and his lips stopped moving momentarily, as I took his hands in mine again and removed them from my stomach. He immediately relaxed, resumed his devouring of my ear and neck, and groaned deep in his throat as I placed his palms over my breasts. He needed no prompting to know what I wanted him to do next. He simply began massaging and kneading my tits. I wasn't excessively large, but my boobs fit perfectly in each of his large hands.

_They call me crazy, they say I'm crazy  
>I know you are but what am I?<br>I know you are but what am I?_

If there were any such thing as magic, it was this man's mouth and hands, and I wanted him to never stop kissing and touching me. To communicate this, I let my hands continue northward until I reached my shoulders, then I reached up and back so that my fingers slid into his cool, silky hair. I began fisting and tugging on his sexy locks, holding his lips to my skin. Clearly our minds were as linked as our bodies were at this point, because he seemed to understand exactly what I was silently telling him as he began feasting on me as a starving man would a porterhouse steak. _Fuck_, this man was driving me insane.

_They call me crazy, I think I'm crazy  
>I know you are but what am I?<br>Ooh, I got your crazy_

He removed one of his hands from me, and I whimpered pitifully in protest – I _so_ hope he didn't hear that – until I felt him use that hand to move my hair to the side and his lips attach themselves to my neglected shoulder. As his lips and tongue danced over the previously untasted side of my neck, he returned his hand to my front, but not to my breast. Instead, his hand settled back onto my stomach where he used his strength to slowly pull my unresisting body tighter to him. I softly grunted and whimpered again – very much not in protest this time – as he began grinding his very prominent erection into my ass. He was swiveling his hips in a circular motion that was counter to mine, and the friction this de-synchronization of our bodies brought was turning my bones to jelly, my skin to cinders, and my brain to mush.

_Call my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, ooh I got your crazy<em>

I was lost in a haze of lust and desire when I felt his hands moving again. They were dragging down my front and came to settle on and tightly grip my hips as his fingers dug into me. I released a shocked and unabashedly loud groan as he slammed me roughly back into his hardness, where he continued to rub what felt like a very large endowment against me. I was so beyond controlling my reactions at this point; I was purring deeply in my throat. He seemed encouraged by my responses and brought his hands down low over my skirt where they rested on my lower abdomen, right over my pubic bone, and began rubbing deep circles into me as our movements synched back up and we began moving as one again.

My breathing grew steadily heavier, more labored, as he massaged me in just such a way that I felt myself rapidly approaching that precipice of utter euphoria, and it didn't seem to matter that he had done so without ever having touched me intimately … per se. I was on the verge of doing exactly what Alice had mentioned and fucking him senseless. This man was quickly taking complete control of my pleasure, my body … my very mind. And that's when the unbidden memory of another hypnotic man stealing my control flashed through my head, making me go cold, and I knew I needed to get away from here … _now_.

_Call my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up, and I'm a fuck you up<br>Touch my man again and I'm a fuck you up  
>And I'm a fuck you up<br>And then you call me your best friend  
>And then you call me your best friend<br>I hope I'm crazy_

I turned and instantly dropped into a squat in from of him, placing my hands on his hips to steady myself, and tilted my head so that I was looking up at him. He met my gaze full-on, and I could see the pure desire smoldering in his green depths. He moved one of his hands to cover one of mine on his hip while twining my hair around the fingers of his other. His apparent acceptance of my submissive posture was like a bucket of ice water dumped over me and was enough to spur me to move. I began slithering my way up his front, but when I reached the front of his pants and the _large_, and obviously engorged, dick hidden behind his zipper, I felt heat start to creep back through me, and I couldn't help myself.

I brushed one cheek lightly over his package, nuzzling the other cheek into him with a little more pressure, before I heard him hiss through clenched teeth as I quickly kissed right where the head of his cock was positioned. "_No, Bella_," my brain snapped at me, and urged me to return to my original course of action. As I traversed his stomach and chest, I once again allowed my control to slip a little as I inhaled his scent. It was a mixture of honey, mint, musk, and pure man … and it was more intoxicating than any liquor I had ever drunk. But again, my brain took over and reminded me of what happened when I let a man have power over me. Finally, I reached his neck where I leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw as I whispered, "She's gone, and you are _most_ welcome, Professor."

I stepped back, untangled our hands, and smirked up at him. He was standing there slack-jawed, glassy-eyed, and abso-fucking-lutely aroused … and I wasn't going to do _shit_ for him. Score one for Bella Swan and her ability to learn from her past mistakes. Without another word, I turned on my heel and started to walk off the dance floor, but before I got more than a few feet away, I heard him call out to me in a shaky voice, "It's Edward!"

I didn't stop or look back, but I felt the need to acknowledge his statement, if for no other reason than to drive home the point that this interaction – pleasurable though it may have been for both of us – was over now. I nonchalantly tossed back over my shoulder with a little wave, "Whatever, Sparky." I needed to find Alice, beat her ass into the ground, and then go home and have another session with my massaging shower head. A previously unnamed apparatus that would henceforth be referred to as Edward.


End file.
